


Dopplegangland

by Marzi



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), The Closer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzi/pseuds/Marzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had been waiting for something like this to happen; for the next speculative thing of human imagination, of improbable science, to suddenly come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dopplegangland

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: afrakaday  
> Prompt: 25 Any crossover- Any/any – They are both the only survivors of their groups

Monsters.

There might have been a time in Sharon's life when facing such a thing would have been unimaginable. Her world view had been severely altered several years ago however, just like the rest of the planet's, and a part of her couldn't help but admit that she was waiting for something like this to happen. For the next speculative thing of human imagination, of improbable science, to suddenly come true.

First it was aliens, now it was... these.

Crawling around a fallen air duct, Sharon did her best to ignore the terrible state her suit had managed to get into. It would need to be dry cleaned. If dry cleaners still existed after this. Her appearance hardly mattered right now, anyway. Though she was immensely relieved she had decided on a pantsuit rather than a skirt that morning.

A groan sounded and she froze, unsure if it was a person or shifting debris. She squinted through her dust and blood smeared glasses, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from.

A person with a heavy, uneven gait stumbled across the floor, and she stopped breathing. Its suit was coated in dust like hers, but only its hands were stained with blood. It paused at the door, appearing unsure of how to walk through it as it hung off its hinges. After a moment of indecision, it tripped forward into the hall over a discarded shoe.

Sharon started breathing again, and hurriedly pulled herself out from under broken drywall and two by fours, almost slamming her head into the crinkled tin air duct.

The blast had blown out the windows and shook the earthquake-fortified building. Power was still on, though damage to the wiring had left some areas dark.

Her first priority after recovering herself had been to find out what had happened. Where had the blast come from? What bomb? What group, what person? She quickly had to re-prioritize. Explosions hardly seemed worthwhile when colleagues you just helped secure into body bags started walking into rooms and killing people. Monsters with faces of people you once worked with. Had just watched die. Where the murderous doppelgangers came from wasn't even important now. She just needed to stay alive, and get out. Answers would come once she was out of the LAPD headquarters death trap.

Sharon checked the gun at her side as she neared the door. She only had four bullets left, most of the clip having been spent making it across the building. Initially, she had just tried to wound any creatures she had come across, but quickly learned there was only one effective method to keeping them down.

The stairs on the south side of the building had collapsed, and now she was headed back across, hoping she would have better luck with another exit. She wondered what would be worse, surviving the initial horror to be killed by the collapsing building, or surviving the initial horror to be killed by someone she had once filed a report against.

Using the door as cover, she peeked out into the hall. The suit that had stumbled past her was at the end of the hall, thankfully alone. Unfortunately, it had positioned itself right by the exit to the stairwell, distracted by the bloody mess of glass around a box that once held a fire ax. Sharon wondered if the person who had secured the weapon was still alive. There was no point in speculating, though; she couldn't let herself believe that she had help, any ally in her escape. She needed to continue relying on herself.

Raising her sleeve to dab away the most obscuring blood smears from her lenses, Sharon carefully raised her gun once her vision was more clear. She felt her body relax into the familiar stance she took while at the gun range on the weekends. Letting out a slow, steady breath, she stilled her lungs before squeezing the trigger. She felt the force of the gunfire travel into through her hands, but kept her arms steady, lest she miss and need to fire again at a suddenly charging target.

When the body finally jerked to the ground after the bullet passed through the back of its skull, Sharon slowly lowered her arms.

She silently counted to five, waiting for any unseen adversaries to make their presence known, before slowly venturing out into the hall. Tucking the gun back into the holster at her side, she approached the downed figure. Studiously ignoring the once-familiar face, she quickly checked the body for anything that might be useful. No gun, no clips, not even a set of keys.

Wiping any traces of gore from her hands, Sharon carefully stood and moved toward the fire exit. The door opened onto the stairwell with a terrible groaning, and stopped halfway on its rotation. Something was blocking it from the other side, but she still had plenty of room to squeeze through. The lights flickered in the stairwell with an annoying buzz, and from what she could see, they seemed to be out altogether on the steps going down. The ones she intended to take.

Slipping through the door, she placed one hand on her gun and quickly took stock of the area.

The debris blocking the door was a large chunk of cement, broken off from the stairs above. The wall was splattered in blood and what looked like blast residue, but Sharon could see no body or even pieces of remains. The remnants of explosive worried her more than the absence of the one who had lost all the blood. Had charges been placed inside the LAPD as well? Were more still set to go off? Could other survivors have become so desperate?

Letting the door fall shut behind her, Sharon turned toward the darkness that shrouded her path. The buzzing of the semi-functional lights above her began to grate on her nerves. Illumination above, shadows below. She wasn't particularly fond of the image at the moment.

Hand still resting on her gun, she proceeded forward, moving slowly with the hope that she would detect something moving in the dark before it managed to strike against her. Carefully checking the distance of each step with her foot before stepping down, Sharon felt the hairs on her arms raise, and a crawling sensation creep under her skin. It would do no good to fall into panic now, she had hardly been afraid of the dark before, but now, alone within it with all the horrors she had just seen..

A hand wrapped around her ankle, and Sharon felt the world freeze for a second before she was pulled off balance. She landed heavily on her back, winded, the edges of the concrete steps no doubt leaving large bruises striped across her back. Groaning, she lifted her head, desperately hoping to see her assailant in the gloom.

The creature still clutched her foot, though it didn't seem capable of doing much else. Frantically, she kicked, feeling the heel of her shoe sink into its eye. It screeched and howled as its fingers grappled and scratched their way along her calf, trying to find purchase. She pulled her leg back and kicked again, though she only managed a glancing blow. She felt her shoe begin to slip off, and curled her toes in order to try and keep it from falling away.

Suddenly remembering her gun, her hand scrambled for her waist, pulling the weapon free.

Not wanting to risk shooting herself, she shifted her aim right, where she could feel the creature slowly pulling itself up her leg. She squeezed the trigger, catching a quick flash of the face of her assailant. The bullet missed the mark, but Sharon was able to break free and pull herself back up the stairs.

Clambering backwards to keep it in her sight, she stopped once she was far enough for the light to be reaching her once again. Steadying the gun with both of her hands, she waited for it to crawl up the stairs after her. Her eyes darted briefly away, taking a look at her shoe. Blood was smeared across its side, but it appeared unharmed. Sharon didn't want to lose her footwear, even if they were heels. The last thing she needed was to step on a piece of debris and become incapable of running. Sharon wasn’t egocentric enough to think she was going to make it out of this situation without a great deal of running. Especially with just two bullets left.

The creature pulled itself up another step, finally putting it within the range of light, and making itself an easy target. There were bloody furrows in its back. The ax bearer had gone that way, then. Sharon fired, landing the bullet squarely between the creature's eyes. It fell forward, cracking its head against a concrete step.

The buzzing from the broken lights above her slowly crept into her hearing after the loud retort of gunfire receded.

Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet and holstered her gun, new bruises protesting along the way. One hand on the rail, she headed back into the dark much faster than she had tried the first time. Maneuvering around the body, she paused on the landing of the next floor. There was a tiny sliver of light coming through the small window in the door leading to the hallway. She turned her eyes toward the steps heading farther down. They were pitch dark, and she couldn't even hear any electrical buzzing. Not keen on running into any more unseen trouble, she opted to exit the stairwell. Hopefully she would have more luck on another staircase and make it down from a different side of the building.

Again.

She peered through the panel of glass, doing her best to scout the area with her small field of vision.

Limbs were scattered on the floor, and the hodgepodge array made Sharon conclude more than one person had contributed to the mess. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, ignoring the twinges at her sides and trying to let herself enjoy a breath of relatively clean air.

With that much viscera and gore on the ground, the smell was bound to be overpowering. Steadying herself, she opened her eyes and pulled open the door.

The smell didn't hit her as hard as she thought it would, making Sharon wonder about what she had been breathing in the past few hours. Stepping carefully so that she wouldn't slip in the blood, she froze in the center of the hall. A floral pattern finally made itself clear to her eye on the blood-soaked skirt.

She hadn't spoken to the woman in weeks, but the sudden, almost abstract realization that she was now dead struck Sharon more strongly than the bodies of her day-to-day colleagues. Something so distant in her mind had been affected, taken by the horrors of the day, what did that mean for the world at large?

Her mind flew to her answering machine, all of the messages she hadn't had time to reply to. The ones she had.

Her son had been planning on coming to town the next day.

Was he even still alive?

A noise reached her ear, pulling her back to reality. It wasn't until she recognized the sound and another surge of adrenaline was sent through her body, that she finally reacted.

She turned towards the sound of running feet, hand immediately going for the gun, then she remembered.

She had one bullet left.

Would it now, in this moment, be best to turn the weapon on herself, or risk falling victim to the same fate as the woman at her feet?

The sharp click on the steps registered to her as the sound of heels, and the thought of one of the mindless creatures running towards her in heels was almost funny. Then a woman carrying a fire ax rounded the corner, and Sharon's gun was only halfway out of its holster, the destination of the bullet still undecided.

“Open the door!”

This woman was alive. The information stunned her, causing her to simply stare back, not really hearing the words shouted at her.

Three creatures then stumbled around the corner in pursuit, and Sharon's survival instincts kicked in. She practically pounced on the door across from her and threw it open. Stumbling inside, she held it open, the woman with the ax sliding through the blood in the hall and almost falling herself. She slammed the door once she was clear, fumbling with the lock. Shaking, she turned back around, keeping her hand near her gun. Just because she wasn't trying to eat her didn't mean she had to trust this person.

The woman's skirt was ragged, and there was a long tear up the side to give her legs more mobility. The handle, as well as the blade of the ax, were smeared with blood. Her unruly auburn hair, falling just past her shoulders, matched the drying gore on her person.

Sharon had the sudden disconcerting idea that she had been the one to butcher the blonde in the hallway.

Bodies slammed into the door behind her, and she leapt forward, now wondering which threat she needed to face first.

“Gods,” the woman panted, still trying to regain her breath.

At the invocation of multiple deities, Sharon realized who she was.

She had acted as her body double on many of her visits to Los Angeles. The Captain had volunteered for the assignment during one of the LAPD's brainstorming sessions on the woman's security. Despite how many death threats the Colonial President received, Sharon had found she enjoyed her assignment.

Laura Roslin had never shared much beyond comfortable silences with her, but after a long day, those moments were what both of them had come to appreciate.

“Your raptor didn't make it,” Sharon stated, skipping over any pointless pleasantries.

“No...” Her eyes lit up in recognition, and she paused to take another deep breath. “No,” she leaned against a table in the room, laying her ax across it. “We had some kind of malfunction, couldn't take off.”

“Your security detail?”

Laura shook her head. “Have you...have you found anyone else?”

“No one alive.”

“Right.” Laura looked uneasily towards the door as it gave another rattle. “We should just concentrate on getting out of here, then.”

Sharon wasn't sure if she meant the room, or the building. As she could see no way out of the room, she decided not to dwell on the impossible. “I've been trying. Most of the exits are blocked off with debris from the blast. I barely found a way down to this floor.”

“How many up to the roof?” Laura closed her eyes, trying to remember.

“Three. I'm not sure how stable it is up there. We should head down, get to solid ground.”

“The raptor was intact. If it's still there, or if we can at least get the radio working... we can contact someone, get a rescue party sent for us.”

“None of the radios I've found have been working.”

“Are your radios capable of transmitting through the atmosphere?”

Sharon paused, conceding that Laura had a point.

“If you want to make it to ground,” the president continued, “I don't really have any way of stopping you.”

Sharon was continually surprised that a woman who had led people through a long war, was target to numerous assassination attempts, and even coordinated a resistance movement under an occupation, considered herself incapable of influencing one person.

“I believe at this moment, there is safety in numbers.”

Laura smiled faintly, wiping the blood from her hands onto her skirt. “I think they have the same idea.”

“Maybe they'll turn on each other.”

“They won't.” She crossed her arms, fingers digging tightly into her biceps. “This group has had me stuck here for an hour.”

“Why didn't you just keep going up on the stairs?”

“What?”

“You didn't take the ax from the box?”

“I took it off the body in the hall. The three of them,” she waved a hand towards the still shaking door, “jumped me after.”

“What were you doing back out there?”

“I keep hoping they'll bleed out. I've managed to get a few hits in.”

“Why not go for the door?”

“I didn't know it was open. The last one I tried was blocked.”

Sharon nodded, letting the pieces of her story fall into place. “The south?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Laura pushed herself from the table, beginning to pace across the room. “Of course, it does us no good knowing where we can't go if we can't go anywhere.” She placed her hands on her hips, steel entering her spine. “But, since you have a gun...”

“I only have one bullet left,” Sharon admitted.

The president tilted her head towards the table. “I found an extra clip.”

The police officer turned her eyes back to the piece of furniture. Items she hadn't noticed before were scattered across the table. A cracked cell phone, a clip, a wallet, a set of keys, a large notepad and what looked like a half eaten Kit-Kat bar. Before her eyes found the bulky handbag she realized to whom the items belonged.

She strode across the room, picking up the extra ammo and checking the clip. It wasn't full, but it was still considerably more than what she had.

“Was there a gun?” She asked, taking her own from her side and swapping out the clips.

“I...dropped it.”

Sharon froze, wondering if, for some reason, she was supposed to laugh. She looked at the other woman from the corner of her eye.

“I accidentally ejected the clip, I dropped the gun, so I kept the bullets and ran.” She stared back at her, as if daring her to say something.

Then the corner of the president's lip twitched, and the next thing Sharon knew, the other woman was hunched over laughing. There was a note of hysteria to it. She felt her own shoulders shake as she guffawed, more at the display than at situation.

“Oh Gods,” Laura managed between giggles. “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

In this moment, she felt a well of protectiveness rise up inside her; something other than what she'd had as a part of her security. Though she was several years older than her, Sharon more often than not felt young within the president's company, a remarkable feat within itself. She felt herself smile as the giggles continued, though the action was likely due to a break in her psyche then a release of happiness.

A loud bang against the door cut the laughter off and erased the smile from her face.

Laura crossed to her side, picking the ax up from the table. “You shouldn't use more bullets than you have to.”

“You want to stand in front of me while I shoot?”

“To the side, there are three of them.”

“One door,” she pointed out.

“Do you really expect them to walk through in an orderly fashion?” Laura wiped the handle of the ax across her skirt, leaving streaks of drying blood across the dark blue fabric. Her fingers tested the grip, flexing over the still-dirty surface.

“Don't do anything heroic,” Sharon grimly conceded.

“Don't worry, I'm not suicidal.”

As she moved across the room to unlock the door, Sharon couldn't help but think the president actually looked more alive than when she had last seen her. Fighting to stay alive seemed to suit her, or perhaps she was just more used to it. Sharon readied herself, checking the gun in her hand one more time, then she carefully set her stance and held the weapon ready. The president was watching her, and after her nod, Laura unlocked the door, twisting the handle so that it would begin to swing free.

Two rushed the door, throwing it open the rest of the way, their shoulders catching, and giving Laura time to aim before they burst into the room. She swung, ax catching the knee of the one closest to her. The limb broke at an impossible angle, the sound of bone cracking echoing in the room. She yanked the weapon free, and the howling creature collapsed onto its remaining knee. Sharon fired, dropping the one on the left. Laura then raised her arms high, bringing the weapon down onto the injured one's skull. The blade sank inches deep, and the creature's whole body jerked as nerves were severed. Sharon could see her arms straining, but the ax did not pull free from the killing blow.

The third, knocked back by its already fallen brethren, was finally making its way back to the doorway. Laura was blocking any clean shot she could make at it. Seeing the danger, the president threw herself to the ground, hand still on the ax, the body came with her.

Relief washing through her, Sharon fired, watching as the outstretched hand hit the floor last alongside the now inert body.

Laura pulled herself up, rocking the ax out of the cleaved skull it was wedged in.

Sharon felt her stomach twist, recalling the noises it had made. Laura caught her eye as she adjusted a shaking hand's grip on the ax.

“They scream because they can feel pain.”

It was an idea the police officer had been avoiding thinking about.

“You know what these things are?” Sharon pressed, wanting some mysteries solved. Wanting a distraction from what had just happened.

The sharp lines of her shoulders seemed to loosen, and she adopted a sad, weary expression. “It's faulty resurrection technology.”

Of all of the advancements the Colonials had brought with them when they found Earth, the cylon resurrection technology had been some of the most controversial. The leaders of the countries who had stood united in greeting their cousins from the stars had been more than happy to learn of space travel, terraforming and waste management. Though the idea of a person, a living person, going past their own body, had nearly ignited another religious war.

“The mind hasn't fully made it to the clone body, to say nothing of a person's soul,” Laura continued, drawing Sharon back to their present situation. “I have no idea how so many managed to undergo the process. Why so many would willingly sacrifice themselves.”

“I doubt all of these people were willing. Or aware.” Sharon pointed out. She had no idea that resurrection technology had been on the bargaining table between their peoples. Faceless politicians, forever young, filled her mind. Would an immortal Caesar rise up from all of this? The clone cylon bodies were more durable than human ones, perhaps not an emperor, but a self proclaimed God? Would they have the power to take control over the chaos?

“Yes,” she nodded slowly, “yes, you're right. But who would want to unleash something like this? Who would want a world full of these... half-lives?”

“Someone who wished to achieve anarchy.”

“Would a group like that have access to resources capable of building a resurrection facility? To collecting all the DNA samples from these people?”

Even with what little she knew of that science, she did know the answer to that. “Unlikely.”

“I suppose these questions are a bit pointless right now, but...”

“You want answers.”

“Yes.”

“So do I.” For a moment, Sharon considered questioning her further. She didn't doubt the president knew more of the situation, or at least, had the knowledge to deduce more from the limited information they had. The idea of staying put disagreed with her though, and she figured after their success, it was best to keep moving. “We're going to have to get out of here first.”

Laura's eyes were distant, as if she were lost in thought, but she nodded. “The roof?” She asked as if it hadn't already been decided.

“Yes.” Holstering her gun, Sharon led the way back out into the hall. She kept her eyes straight, stepping around the body parts, and doing her best not to slip in the blood. She heard the echoing clack of heels behind her, indicating that Laura was following.

She pulled open the door to the stairwell, looking back over her shoulder, expecting something to come running around the corner. Laura moved forward, though Sharon saw her freeze as she noticed the body on the ground. There was half a moment where she wondered if she was going to ask about it, but then she just continued forward. Sharon followed after, feeling oddly comforted when the door closed behind her, despite her recent experience on the stairs. Laura took the lead, keeping both hands on her ax, jogging up the steps to the lights.

The buzzing sound still irritated Sharon.

Laura waited for her on the landing, and she took a moment to take in the president's disheveled appearance. Bloody and torn skirt, runs in her stockings, blood along the cuffs of her jacket, to say nothing of the gore-streaked ax in her hand, unruly hair that held a layer of dust, and there were tiny flecks of blood on her glasses. The white shirt under the jacket had one bright red strain, but other than that was remarkably clean. Sharon knew she couldn't have fared much better. The president was probably standing a little straighter than her. She wondered if it was just an ingrained characteristic from politics, or if hacking apart human bodies in order to survive had made her a little stiff.

“I'm not sure how stable these stairs are,” Sharon moved around the chunk of cement blocking the door. She could see exposed rebar poking out into the air.

“Let's find out.”

The side with the railing had crumbled, so Laura hugged the wall as she continued upward. Sharon watched her uneasily, some part of her training screaming at her not to the let the president head into danger first. Not having the room to overtake her on the stairs and get ahead, she simply followed close behind. Her ears were straining, trying to pick out any unusual sounds, any indicator that the ground might suddenly fall away from their feet. From the way Laura's shoulders kept tensing, Sharon knew she was doing the same thing.

Reaching the next landing was more anti-climactic than relieving, for though they had made it to safety, the door reading 'roof access' seemed to have been blown off of its hinges. Sharon approached it uneasily, wondering what had been meant by this, and the other explosive residue she had seen. Had someone been trying to get to the raptor? Was it still there? Was it even going to be functional if it was?

“Did you hear what did this?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Laura's voice.

“No. But there were burn marks on the last landing too.”

The sound of one of Laura's disconcerted hums reached her ears. Obviously this was unsettling, obviously they were going to continue on anyway. Sharon took the opportunity to step ahead, leading the way up the stairwell. The lights here didn't buzz, but they seemed somehow less bright, as if the sun was expected to be lighting the way already.

She turned, heading up the last steps, and froze, one foot in the air when she finally noticed it. It had the shape of a man, but the blood dripping from its chin told Sharon otherwise. A half-life, as Laura had called them, so silent that she wondered if it was already dead. Behind her, she heard Laura's breathing catch. Her hand eased towards her gun, and she moved slowly, wondering if that was what had kept it from jumping and attacking her. She had her gun raised halfway when it leapt, knocking her off balance. She stumbled, and collided with the wall, managing to avoid uselessly firing her gun.

It barreled into Laura, knocking her down, and the pair rolled down the steps. Every shout as her body collided with the concrete made Sharon's heart jump. When they tumbled to a halt on the lower landing, Laura groaned, at least confirming that she was still alive. The creature was still wrapped securely around her though. She struggled to keep its face back with the handle of her ax, having kept the weapon pressed against herself during the fall. The monster had bitten its own tongue, and as it tried to sink its teeth into Laura, blood splattered freely across her face. The rolled, precariously close to heading down the next flight of stairs, as she managed to force it on its back. Its arms were wrapped around her, digging into her back.

Sharon tugged off her shoes, running down the steps. She didn't want to risk shooting Laura as she and her assailant kept swapping places. When she was closer, she noticed the ax blade had sunk into the monster's side; thankfully it rather than Laura, but it limited the handle's availability as a defense.

Laura rolled away from the edge of the steps, back towards the center of the landing. Sharon swung, catching her heel in the creature's ear, and snapping it off. She dropped the broken shoe, quickly moving the other into her hand, swinging it at the creature's forehead. It caught the edge of the eyebrow, splitting the skin, but the heel didn't snap off. She stepped back as Laura rolled again, putting herself back on top. It had loosened its grip, allowing her to roll off of it. Sharon helped her to her feet, then turned her eyes back to the gurgling monster. It sounded like it was choking on its own blood.

Laura grabbed the handle of the ax, wrenching it free. As it continued to feebly twitch and gurgle, she swung the blade onto the half-life's neck, silencing it, if not beheading it.

Sharon kept her eyes up, watching as the president began to wipe away the spit and blood. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, and she wondered if some had gotten into her mouth and she was just unwilling to acknowledge it. After clearing off her glasses, she settled them back on her face and fixed Sharon with a blank stare.

“Thank you.”

Without thinking, she reached forward and wiped a smear of blood from off of her forehead. “You're welcome.”

Laura didn't seem interested in dwelling on the beating her body had taken falling down the stairs, and gripping the railing, quickly ascended. Sharon followed much slower, feeling her own battered body protesting, barely aware of the rough feel of concrete under her bare feet. Adrenaline would only take her so far; her aches and pains were trying to catch up with her, and when they did, she didn't know how long it would be before she got moving again. How the other woman was still going strong was beyond her. Ahead, Laura pushed out of the door onto the roof, and Sharon was surprised when she waited and held it open. Nodding as she reached her, she paused in the doorway, resting against the handle as Laura turned to move on.

The wind whipped at her hair, obscuring her vision until she could tuck it back behind her ear. The smell of smoke was heavy on the air, and the horizon was cloudy, not really that unusual for LA. The eerie quiet, even on the roof, was. The idea that the city could have fallen silent made Sharon shiver. She crossed her arms, tucking her shoe under her arm.

Laura didn't seem to care for noticing the details, eyes on the raptor, still intact. Her steps quickened as she neared it, and Sharon felt like hanging back, as if this moment of hope wasn't hers to take. Not wanting to let herself be too distant, lest there be more trouble, she made herself abandon the door and take after the president.

Pulling open the hatch, Laura clambered inside before it fully opened, dropping into the ECO's seat, and setting her ax to rest on the side of the console. Her hands moved across the controls with a practiced ease, and Sharon wondered why she had learned to operate the transmitting equipment and had never bothered to learn to pilot. Then again, all the times she had to be transported in one of the ships, she had never learned either. Carefully stepping into the ship after her, she placed her remaining shoe on one of the passenger seats in the back.

The console lit up, and Sharon saw the other woman hesitate before flicking on the radio. She understood the fear all too well. What if no one answered?

“ _Galactica_ , this is President Roslin, do you read?”

“Ma'am?” A voice crackled through a radio. “Thank the Gods.”

Relief flooded her body immediately, driving away the tension. “Do you know what's happening?”

“There were explosions all over the planet, we thought...”

It didn't matter how heavily distorted the man's voice was, Sharon could still hear the fear, see the shudder that passed through Laura. They had lost their planets, what would it be to watch the same fate happen to another people? To another place you had just begun to call home?

“There were no radiological signatures though, and we couldn't see most from orbit.”

Most? Which cities had been leveled? What lands annihilated?

“Is _Galactica_ safe?”

“Yes ma'am. We had received some other reports from ground teams before we lost contact. They said, they said the dead had come back.”

“Not the dead,” Laura snapped. “Resurrection technology gone awry. Bodies. Not people. Not the dead.”

“The cylons?”

“Unlikely. They don't have enough people to do something this massive.”

“The Thirteenth Tribe?”

As always when referred to that way, it took Sharon a moment to realize that he was talking to them. To those already on Earth.

“The idea of rebirth is a powerful one.” A bitterness crept into her voice as she spoke, but it was gone with her next words. “The Admiral?”

“No contact.”

There was a beat of silence, and Sharon could see a tremor in Laura's hand as she pressed the radio to reply.

“Who-” The president stopped, the speakers from the wireless suddenly screeching. She stared at the display dumbfounded as the sound suddenly cut out, the signal lost. Dropping the radio, she leapt from the seat and jumped from the raptor. Sharon cautiously followed, seeing Laura's eyes turned up to the sky. _Galactica_ had to be positioned in orbit above them for her to be so certain she would see a sign of what happened.

There was a flash of light in the day bright sky, but Sharon could hear nothing. Her eyes turned to Laura, who was utterly still. Tentatively, Sharon moved closer. What was she supposed to do? Put a hand on her shoulder, hug her? Just stand there? Tell her to put it out of her mind until they were out of this mess? Lie?

As she got closer she became aware of a murmuring from Laura, which slowly turned itself into words in her ear.

Names. Ranks.

Was she listing all the souls aboard _Galactica?_ Sharon wondered if she really knew them all. Her eyes left the president, deciding that it was best if she worked with her grief as she knew how.

When her eyes turned back to the other woman, Sharon pulled the gun from her side and leveled it. “Laura.”

The president turned slowly towards her, and when her eyes landed on the weapon, her face went blank. The cold and distant look on Laura's face as she stared at the barrel of the gun struck Sharon as familiar. Not to herself, but to woman wearing it. As if she had been in this situation before, betrayed and held at gunpoint. She disliked the idea of causing such a pain to the woman in front of her. The protective urge from earlier came back, telling her to hunt down who had hurt her, but that was hardly practical, or rational.

All she could do now was just prove to Laura the gun was not truly aimed at her.

“Duck,” she said crisply.

Her eyes widened in shock, but she dropped to the ground.

The man reached for his weapon, but Sharon fired before he could pull it free. His body tumbled forward, having been moving when her bullet caught his throat. Her eyes darted around the roof, suddenly feeling exposed. Who else could be hiding up here? When no one else stepped out into view and no bullets tore through her, she cautiously lowered her gun, moving forward to check on Laura.

“Alright?” She crouched down.

Laura nodded, patting Sharon's knee. Slipping an arm around her, she helped her stand. She didn't think she was unable to on her own, but the destruction earlier seemed to have finally caught up with her. Judging by the confused and pale look to her face, she seemed on the verge of an anxiety attack.

“Just one more thing, and then we're going to sit down.” If the building didn't collapse, the raptor was probably the safest place they could be at the moment.

Moving her arm to her waist, Sharon guided her over to the body. A living man trying to kill them. The day had to get worse, didn't it?

The young man's face was turned to the side, his mouth slack and open. The blood pool under him was slowly spreading out, almost catching Sharon's toes.

“Do you recognize him?”

“No.”

Laura didn't seem to be really looking at him, but Sharon didn't want to press her. After making sure she could stay standing on her own, Sharon moved forward to strip him of his weapon. She pulled the gun from his limp fingers and set it by her foot before rolling him over and beginning to check his pockets. A cracked radio, which she left, and a protein bar and an extra clip of ammo which she decided to take. She shoved the protein bar and clip into her jacket pocket, and scooped the gun off the ground before standing.

Laura was watching her, eyes more focused than before, though she still looked like she was about to be ill.

“Are you sure you don't recognize him? What he's wearing?”

“Yes.”

Sharon chose to believe her.

Not caring that she seemed more steady, she put an arm around her as she led the way back to the raptor. “We'll rest, then make it down to the street.”

“Where will we head from there?”

We. It was good to know having the gun pointed at her earlier hadn't dissuaded her of the notion of safety in numbers.

“That depends on how clear the roads are, and if I can get a car.” Whether or not it was hers wouldn't matter now.

“Then we go find answers.”

“Yes.” Stepping into the ship first, she helped the president up before sealing the hatch.

Laura took the seat by the communications array again, eyes straying briefly over the still-lit console. Her hands lifted, as if she were reaching to shut it off, when they suddenly moved to the ax at her side. She picked up the weapon and laid it across her lap, letting her fingers toy with the edge of the handle.

Sharon watched the nervous gesture, but darted her eyes away when Laura caught her staring. She took the passenger seat next to the one that held her shoe, setting the extra gun on the console as if it were a table.

“Tell me something.” Sharon pulled the protein bar from her pocket, breaking it in half, and handing a piece to Laura.

“Of course.” She smiled dully as she took her half of the bar.

“When did you undergo the process?”

Her face paled. “What?”

“When were you given a clone body?”

Laura removed her glasses, closing her eyes. “A year ago.”

Sharon was glad the other woman was willing to come clean once she had been caught. The lie of omission was one thing, but if she had tried to say otherwise... “Why?”

“My cancer.” She slipped her glasses back on, apparently having composed herself enough. Laura turned to face her companion, there was a weariness clinging to her eyes, but her expression was one of resolve. “It came back. I was dying, and if the process didn't work it wouldn't have been much of a loss.”

“But it did.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I had undergone a procedure that others had not. I had been given an injection of stem cells from a cylon-human hybrid child during my first diagnosis.”

“What?”

Laura grimaced. “It hadn't been my idea.”

“That cured you?”

“That put me into remission, and is the only factor I can think of as to why my downloading succeeded where so many others have failed.”

“Are there other copies of you?”

“If there are,” her words became more stilted, as if she was struggling with holding something back. “I am unaware of them.”

Sharon paused before asking her next question. “Was it your idea?”

Laura's expression softened. “No.” A sadness broke the smile on her face.

“Some people aren't good at letting go,” the older woman deduced.

“No, no they're not.”

Having her answers, Sharon chose to change the subject. “We're going to make it through this.”

Laura looked truly amused when she added, “And some people aren't good at lying.”


End file.
